


It ends bad, until it doesn't

by Sl_trine



Category: Homeland
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:44:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sl_trine/pseuds/Sl_trine
Summary: This fic is for everyone (including me) who loved Peter Quinn with every bit of their whole being, and who feels like he wasn't given the end he deserved. Also, Carrie Mathieson will have an actual conscience in this story.  It'll take place after the bed scene in 6.2 where they watch Quinn's sarin gassing together.This is my first fic ever so I welcome any kind of feedback!





	1. Why?

‘’You saved me,’’ he whispered, staring into her blank eyes. 

‘’Yes.’’

‘’Why?’’

He clearly didn’t see why. But Carrie on the other hand, she knew exactly why she saved him. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him though. Filled up with guilt and love, which aren’t exactly compatible, she chose to let the answer to that question linger in the thin air instead. Or the thick air, more likely. He had to know, she thought to herself. Why? Wasn’t it obvious? 

‘’Get some sleep,’’ she said, and turned her back on him on her way out. 

She couldn’t see him, but she sure felt his eyes burning into her back. Wanting something she couldn’t give. At least, not yet. 

‘’Night Carrie,’’ he said, last minute. Almost as if he asked her to stay, even though the words didn’t directly imply that.

And she faced him one last time before leaving him in the basement. She smiled slightly at him, but not because she was happy. She wasn’t, and she knew he wasn’t either. She closed the door and leaned against it, trying not to let it all in, but it was quite obvious to her it was a losing battle. 

Quinn did have a place in her mind, even in her heart, which she couldn’t no longer deny. And it hurt. Standing on the opposite side of the door as to where he was, she let the tears come streaming down. Feeling every drop as a sin. A sin of betrayal because of what she did to him. Carrie was a patriot as much as Quinn. What she did was an act of love for her country, but in this moment, she couldn’t help but feel like she made the wrong choice. How do you choose? A year ago nobody had to even argue with her whether to wake him up from coma or not, even with the enormous risks, if it meant to prevent a terror attack from happening. Thousands of innocent people, even little babies, were so close to blowing up into the bright atmosphere. 

_Yeah_ , she thought to herself, unconvinced of her own thoughts. What I did was right. 

But why did she suddenly start to question that every time she saw him then? Maybe because of Quinn’s sad eyes. Even Saul could try and convince her that what she did, what the two of them decided together in fact, was right, but she knew in her heart, that it wasn’t so simple. 

‘’I’ll make it up to you,’’ she said with a tearful voice, still on the opposite side of the door than him.

He was probably asleep now. 

‘’I promise.’’ 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

‘’Can I get a cup of coffee?’’

‘’Oh my god, hey. You’re up. Yeah. Sure,’’ Carrie answered unnaturally.

They sat down around the kitchen table, and she knew she had to look him in the eyes at some point after yesterday. She just hoped it wasn’t right now. It had to wait. Just a couple more days, until she thought it through. What to say to him, how to explain why he suddenly couldn’t even take a proper fucking _shower_ himself. And other details … such as why he struggled to find the right words to say, and not in the same way she did, but unfortunately quite literally. 

‘’You o – o – ok - kay?’’ Quinn asked. 

He never ceased to amaze her. His selflessness and unconditionally love for her (which she didn’t even deserve) never put an end to her sufferings. She didn’t know how to solve the problem that she felt a need to distance herself from him and this whole thing, but at the same time, how much she wanted to comfort him and tell him how sorry she was. I’m sorry. So sorry Quinn, she thought and never said. 

Instead, ‘’fine,’’ she mumbled.

They drank the last of their coffee in silence. And even though she felt unbearably conflicted in his presence, she was so happy he was here with her. In her home. He didn’t look very good. Actually, awful. His hair had grown over the last few months on his stay at the VA, a few greasy wisps of hair falling down his forehead now. His southern, ocean blue eyes had turned some shades darker too. But he still smiled at her, with the same soft look, and she couldn’t possibly understand why. 

‘’Look, I have to go pick up Franny. Will you be ok here by yourself for a little while?’’ 

Quinn didn’t say anything but looked around the house instead. It wasn’t very homelike; she could admit that. Few furniture, walls all painted white and without any decoration. Furnishing wasn’t really a Carrie kind of thing.

‘’Can I come?’’ he asked. 

‘’You want to come pick Franny up from the nursery school with me?’’ Carrie asked, a bit surprised above all. 

‘’That’s what I asked.’’ 

And then she remembered. Remembered how happy he was with her kid. Remembered how he bounced her on his knee that night, after her father’s funeral. How much the sight of her daughter’s innocent, little and _safe_ laugh in Quinn’s lap made her feel. _I’m pretty likeable._ That’s what he told her, Quinn, when they first met. And he was. Different now, but also exactly the same. He’d gone to the end of the world for her, and all he really asked was to see her beautiful, red-haired little girl. 

Besides, he was the one who made her become a mother in the first place. Something she never was, not even after Franny was born. _Don’t fuck it up_ , he told her, and she almost did. Almost lost it, until he brought her back from a very dark place. Things had taken quite a turn now, but at least she was aware of that. No more denying of responsibilities. In terms of emotions, they both had a long way to go yet. 

‘’Ok, come on then. Let’s go get her,’’ she gave in, trying to hide a smile. 

‘’Fuck me,’’ he said.

‘’What?’’

‘’I just didn’t except that. Thought I was lo – oc –cked up here,’’ he teased, with a bit of a genuine smile this time, which somehow made it all seem even more tragic. But after all they still had this weird thing between them, something which she couldn’t exactly describe, but only knew in her heart was really important to her. And also the reason as to why she saved him.


	2. This too shall pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter I chose to write it from Quinn's POV, because I want to show his suffering as well as recovery from everybody's POV. I intend to continue like this, switching between his and Carrie's. I also wrote the poem (and hope I didn't blew it). Please let me know what you think.

No one was home this morning. His eyes burned from the daylight as a few rays of sun fell upon his fragile face for a moment, and he missed them a little. Truth to be told, a lot more than a little. Missed the voice of his little girl. Or not _his_ , but he could say that, right? He sure loved her as his own. The past few mornings he’d been waking up to these little knocks on his door. Beautiful, red curls had been peeping in and he’d surprised her by whispering “good morning sunshine,” and then she’d turn around and run up the stairs, all giggly and playful screaming “mommy mommy!” which honestly caused a big smile on his face too. He thought about teaching her this. _If you’re sneaking up on someone, try to avoid making the door creak, love._ But then again, Carrie did tell him to behave if he was gonna live here with them. And quite surprisingly, he actually intended to do so. 

Under normal circumstances he’d never be in bed by now. He’d be out, either to watch over Carrie while she was on some stupid mission, or he’d be doing the same for someone else. He definitely preferred the first one, but considering his current state of being, he really wouldn’t mind either one of them. Anything but _this._ Also, he just wanted to save people, not being saved. This whole ‘Uncle Peter’ thing, including morning walks with Franny and Hop, did indeed make him feel just a tiny bit better. But though he was happy to be here, even as a bedbound patient twenty hours a day, he wasn’t really happy. Not in his heart. 

However, he still got to see Carrie everyday and for now, that was all he needed. How pathetic really, he thought to himself. A woman is my therapy. And part of him wished she felt the same. And maybe she did, considering how she insisted to let him stay here. She even placed a kiss on his forehead that first night when she thought he was sleeping. But he wasn’t so sure. Not just about what really happened to him, but also about Carrie Mathison and her (lack of) feelings for him. But maybe everything wouldn’t turn out so dark in the end. _Maybe._

A tear is falling  
One which is me  
Hanging upon that cheek of mine for quite some time now  
It’s dropped to the floor  
So don’t pick it up  
In time my eyes will call  
And back it’ll crawl  
I might be proud another year  
But for now my skin feels like glass  
Which can be broken by only the touch of ashes  
I’m just a statue of human bones  
With blue, big and burning tears  
Melting in on my metal outward  
I don’t know what I need  
What’s even left of me?  
Slowly I started dancing (with you)  
Fast enough I turned to the ashes  
Maybe all I’ll ever be from here  
Is splints of sharp, unrecognizable edges  
Ones you don’t remember or know how to reconstruct back together  
But you’ll surely cut yourself trying to figure out how  
Because tears like mine are poison to kind of almost anything  
And I’m so sorry for drowning your sight  
I know you tried  
But I can’t allow to let the one I love lose her life  
(Because I’m a fucking _monkey_ now) 

“Quinn?”

_Motherfucker._

“What the fuck, Carrie. Didn’t nobody ever tau- taught you not to sneak up on people like that?” 

“Sorry. Old habit, I guess,” she said, placing a hand upon his, both of them resting on the duvet now. 

“The CIA fucks you up,” she continued, a bit teasingly. 

She smiled at him. The bed was warm, and she was beautiful. So beautiful. But he just wasn’t in the mood to whatever kind of thing she was implying.  
He was sad. Being alone all day made him feel this way, even if that someone he’d been missing was here with him now. Everything did lately, and he didn’t know who to blame other than the pathetic grumbler he knew as himself. 

Luckily he’d managed to toss that half of a poem, if it could even be considered that, under the bed just before she appeared out of the blue. Or perhaps not out of the blue, it might just be his weakened senses playing him a trick. They’d done that lately. Anyways, he was planning on ripping it over some time later on. But after whatever happened to him happened, he’d found a certain peace in writing. Not by thinking too much about it, but simply by letting his own thoughts out on paper. 

Seeing her in this moment was suddenly an eye-opener. He’d been missing something all day, something which he’d been convinced was them. Franny and Carrie. And in particular, her. But now, as they sat down beside each other once again, he understood all of the unsaid words. Some, which needed to be said. Some, which had been lying in the way they glanced at each other, as in this moment.

“Yeah. A lot of things fuck you up,” he finally agreed, taking quite a turn on the conversation. 

“Hey. What’s up with you?” 

Long pause. He didn’t want to say anything because, how could he? He was the one searching for answers here. And she should be the one to enlighten him. Sure he wasn’t the same anymore. A lot of things weren’t exactly working out for him, but he hadn’t lost his mind. Not yet, at least. He knew the look in her eyes, and it frightened him. But for some reason, he felt calm at the same time. Maybe because he feared being lied to, more than knowing the truth. 

“Carrie. What happened to me?” he finally asked, holding onto her gaze.

“And don’t give me some bullshit explanation. I mean, what _really_ happened to me,” he repeated, pointing down himself.

And in that moment, both of them knew they’d hit a wall. In the end, the truth will always conquer, and so it did. And it hurt. Hurt like hell to hear, how she’d waken him up. How she’d prioritized the mission over his well-being. And Saul? Apparently choosing to trust the man, or actually just anybody, was the biggest fucking mistake he’d ever made. In all honesty he was just broken. Heart cut in two, and the women he’d sought for solace in, was the one he now had to hold responsible for all of it. 

“I wasn’t trying to make your life miserable, Quinn.”

“What the fuck Carrie.”

She stared at him, tongue-tied. Lips famously quivering. And he was trying not to care.

“You know what? _Fuck you,_ Carrie.”

“Quinn... please. You’d have done the same thing.”

And in that moment, he knew. He started to question everything about them. Even about himself, for believing what he did. Believing in her, and for thinking she’d ever sacrifice half as much for him. Because she should know, he’d go to the end of the world for her. But maybe not so much anymore. 

“That’s the thing Carrie. I really wouldn’t have,” he said, collecting tears behind his eye eyelids. 

“Is there no fucking line?”

“Quinn.. –

“No. For once, you need to listen. It’s always th- th- the mission!” 

And right there, it ended. The conversation stopped. She left him in the basement, and he was _glad._ Also, I lie about you, he thought. But this time he wasn’t gonna give in, so he left. Left with Carrie damn Mathison on his mind, wondering if it’d ever be different. The night was dark, but full of stars. It was freezing and he was cold. But he walked, and walked and walked, hoping that eventually a miracle would strike for both of them. Because in the end, he just _loved_ her. Stupidly but nevertheless, wholeheartedly. And he couldn’t possibly understand why.


	3. “I love you”

She was scared. He’d been gone for almost twenty-four hours and she hadn’t closed even one eye last night, so at some point she decided to just stop trying. Ever since Quinn moved in, she’d felt safer somehow. She was fully aware that she was the one who needed to take care of him, but it wasn’t that. It was the feeling she had in his presence. It was how he glanced at her so evidently. So affectionate, that all of the unspoken words between them became transparent within seconds. It was how he subtly caressed her hand in the dark at every silent moment, his thumb slowly resting upon her own fingers, sometimes even slightly intertwined with them. 

_It’s so nice to see you. Can we sit and talk for a while? I have searched forever; I can’t imagine anything better._

She turned off the god damn stupid radio and felt a cry coming. Felt tears burning behind her eyelids because she never allowed them to actually show. Maybe in frustration, but never due to someone she cared about. Never due to _him._ She didn’t really cope like that (in fact, she didn’t cope at all). Carrie was more of a ‘let’s bottle this up and burry it’ person. Even when she wanted to devote herself, she just couldn’t. She’d thought Quinn was like that too, but he wasn’t. He was so much more brave, and she knew she discouraged him in her crazy way of dealing with every sign of romantic opportunity between them. 

“Mommy?”

“Hey baby,” she replied, nothing like prepared for this situation. “I’m alright honey,” she said, caressing Franny’s left cheek, trying to look at her little, innocent daughter with that ‘mommy got this’ look even though that was far from the case here. She might not have been the best mother – in fact, that was an understatement – but she did learn a few things from her sister. To be there for the people you love was one of them - no matter how hard, you just had to. She knew she had to now, especially for her angelic little human. But in this moment she realized that ‘the people you love’ was a bit broader than Franny. It was about someone else. What she finally came to terms with too, was that she might loose this certain someone else, if she didn’t went searching for him. And right now, she wanted too. So badly. Nothing inside of her longed to hold back anymore. She knew he was already half out of her home, _their home_ , and she couldn’t bear the thought. 

“Franny, how would you feel about cooking with Max? I have some very important work to do. I promise I’ll be back with a goodnight kiss before you sleep,” she said, hoping her daughter wouldn’t be too hurt about her priorities once again. But at this point, she didn’t have much of a choice.

Franny smiled at her mother – a big, genuine (very incomprehensible) smile, and run into her mother’s arms, leaning against her fast beating heart, before she said: “It’s ok mommy. I want him back too.” And that was the moment Carrie broke. She couldn’t hold it back anymore, but for once, it felt like the right thing to do. She cried in front of her daughter, and Franny reacted by wiping away her mother’s tears with her careful, little baby hands. Everything was a bit too much, but at the same time all both of them really needed. A for once fragile moment in this little, warrior kind of family.

“Thank you for the strength beautiful. You are so much smarter than me. I love you so so much – you know that right?” 

“I love you too mommy.” 

Before Carrie left the apartment to go look for Quinn, she went down in the basement. And as she climbed down the steps to a very empty room, her conscience caught up on her. Why did she place him down here in the first place? In a dark, bad-smelling and very cold room all to himself? She started crying for the second time, only difference that this cry was a bit more violent. Her chest hurt, and tears came to the surface so fast, that she felt blind for a couple of seconds. The bed was a mess and she climbed under the duvet right away. Giving up on herself and whatever she tried to neglect, she buried herself in his sheets, crying and crying and crying, until there wasn’t any tears left. Then the scent of the duvet caught her nostrils, and she started crying all over. 

“Fucking Peter Quinn. God I miss you,” she said, between her tears. 

After a whole lot of crying and working through regret, she finally decided to stand up and start searching for him. Maybe she hadn’t done it sooner because a part of her wished he would’ve come back by himself. Not that she blamed him for not showing up and throwing himself back into a pair of arms which had pushed him away repeatedly for so long. But she still wished he would’ve. 

Instead of disturbing Franny and Max she decided to just take the back door down in the basement. As she pulled the curtains aside, she discovered a crumpled piece of paper on the floor. A few moments later she found herself positioned on the bed, crying _again_ , as she read Quinn’s word in a poem she definitely wasn’t supposed to find. 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hours passed and still, nothing. Nothing but a tired woman on an empty street, looking for the man she loved. The CIA could deport her to the most brutal ends of the world, commanding her to find the world’s most dangerous terrorist, and she would. But whenever she decided to find Peter Quinn in a city she knew as the back of her hand, to finally confess years of oppressed feelings, it couldn’t possibly go more wrong. She felt so incredibly lonely and hurt. The grief grew with every step she took. The annoying light of the street lamps caused her to scream. Scream so loud that if anybody had been there, they probably would’ve put her right back into that mental institution. She ran up and down the same stupid road, waving her arms in every direction, making the most stupid faces while she shifted between hysterically screams and a silent cry. Eventually she sat down on the pavement, burying her head between her hands. She felt so unbelievably exhausted, and she hadn’t even made it home before Franny went to bed. Another promise she couldn’t keep. 

“I’m so lost,” she whispered, knowing nobody could hear her. Fully aware nobody would listen to her, even if they could.

“Me too,” a well-known voice replied from behind.

Only a second later she felt two warm hands rest upon her shoulders, and she knew. Almost couldn’t believe it. Quinn.  
Every bone inside of her longed to reconcile with his. “Quinn. You..,” she stammered, barely able to hold it together. “You disappeared.” 

She thought about how he’d take it because honestly that wasn’t really what happened. She knew how she fucked up – and that he never wanted to leave them. She forced him to. Right now she really just wanted to hear his voice again, hear him talk and tell her everything was ok. And that he’d come back – home. But he didn’t say anything and she couldn’t see him. But his hands were still resting on her body. 

Unexpectedly, he now moved them down to her hips, and she allowed him to. A feeling she thought she’d forgotten came back to live, as Quinn placed his head on her right shoulder, slowly kissing her neck. His hair tickled her bare, frozen skin, but she didn’t move. Not even an inch. Instead, she caught his hands and intertwined them with hers. None of them said anything. Small, intense kisses continued on different parts of her body and she felt better. Alive. After a while he stopped and sat down with her. He was still behind her, so right now she was actually framed in between his legs, as he closed his arms around her upper body. He leaned his breast against her back, and whispered in her ear. Everything he said was incoherent, or maybe she was just too nervous to puzzle it together. But she didn’t want him to stop, and he didn’t. 

And so they sat down at the pavement, literally glued to each other. More hours passed without any talking (expect from Quinn’s regular whispering into Carrie’s ear). And it was perfect. She had never noticed the stars as bright as in this moment, and it probably wasn’t real either. But her perception of everything when she was with him – how she felt – was out of this world. 

“Quinn, I –

“Not now Carrie. Please. Not yet. Just a bit longer like this,” he asked, without really asking.

She knew they had to talk eventually, but she could easily agree with him. Just a bit longer like this - and so they did. 

“Maybe it won’t ever be like this again, Carrie. Like this, here, right now. You and me,” Quinn said after a while, still holding onto her. 

Carrie needed to see him. Needed to look inside of the eyes she missed so badly, so she turned around and faced him, and he looked _wonderful._ Ocean blue tired eyes met hers, and she felt so much love for him in this exact moment. 

“Quinn I love you,” she said, without hesitation. It wasn’t how she planned it (not that she even planned it) but there it went. She simply couldn’t _not_ say it, and she believed he really needed to hear it. 

The look in his eyes changed, and she was scared. She felt like standing up and running away, giving in to her inevitably strong desires to flee from confrontations exactly like this one. But Quinn didn’t let her go. He tightened his grip of her arms and pulled her in closer. She was so small standing this close to him, leaning against him, so he had to lean down. Once again he whispered to her, as he’d done the whole time.

“Carrie. I need to say this, and you just need to hear it,” his voice dropped, sounding so raw that she could almost feel the earnestness.

“I want my heart back, if you’re not gonna keep it. If you’ve got no uses, then I’m gonna need it. And someone else, is gonna need it, too.’’

_I want my heart back, if you’re not gonna keep it._ Carrie was broken. Broken because of what she did. Broken because she’d let him love her so so much without giving him any answers. Without giving him that little bit of love nobody ever did. Not even when she knew she felt the same, and now he was scared to believe her as she finally opened up. And it broke her heart. 

“Quinn. Please stay with me. Please, come home with me,” she said, tearing up in front of the man she never dared to devote herself to before. Not until now. 

“I know a girl who’d love to wake up to a morning kiss, and not just from me,” she said, almost begging him.

But she didn’t have to. Peter Quinn loved Carrie Mathison, and he always had. No matter how soulful this moment of confessions in the middle of the night was, he never truly disappeared. 

“Motherfucker. You really mean it,” he finally said, sounding like he didn’t quite believe it himself. 

“Ok I’ll come but only – 

“Quinn, hold it. I’m not negotiating,” Carrie said, not shielding her need for him anymore. 

“I just wanted to say. I’ll come – but I want a morning kiss too,” he laughed, glancing at her with a reassuring look.

The sun rose as they walked alongside each other on the empty streets. They didn’t hold hands, though Carrie really wanted to. She had to bite her lip more than a few times on their way home. This definitely wouldn’t be easy, but nothing ever was. She was happy – and she genuinely hoped he was too. She knew it would take some getting used to, but she didn’t mind. Right now she just couldn’t wait to wake up Franny, so that she would see her best friend being there, too.


End file.
